


Mother Hen

by Rosa_Cotton



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, FS Season: 2017-2018, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness, Road to Pyeongchang, Sickfic, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 04:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12645858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosa_Cotton/pseuds/Rosa_Cotton
Summary: Javier comes back from Cup of China and is in for a surprise.





	Mother Hen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. This is just fiction, my imagination at work.

_Unpack, go to bed. No_ , Javier corrects himself as he unsteadily fumbles for his apartment key and unlocks the door. _Call back Brian, then_ —

He almost has a heart attack.

"Meow!"

"Javi!"

"Gee!" he exclaims after a second, one hand pressing over his racing heart, the other clinging to the doorframe to keep him from falling over backwards. "You scared me!" he accuses.

Huffing (the sound is muffled by the white face mask firmly in place), Yuzuru wordlessly rises from the couch and brushes himself off. His eyes inspect the other from head to toe and vice versa.

"How…how did you get in here?" Javi slowly asks, glancing suspiciously at his door.

"Key," the Japanese man states. In response to the Spaniard's bewildered stare he adds, "Brian."

"But why are you here? Shouldn't you be at practice?"

Yuzuru waves a dismissive hand. "Had an earlier session."

"Oh," Javier mumbles. He bends down to briefly greet Effie, and then struggles to drag his luggage inside.

"Leave it."

Instinctively the older man obeys the order. Yuzu herds him out of the way and effortlessly brings his things in. The laser-sharp intensity of his glare, while at home at the Cricket Club rink, feels disorienting here in Javi's apartment. He opens his mouth only to freeze when Yuzu rounds on him after shutting the front door, expression thunderous.

"Sleep on flight?"

"Not really."

"Eat?"

"Yeah."

"How feel?"

Javi makes a sound between a sigh and a groan, and Yuzu tuts like a disapproving mother.

"I can see."

Next thing the Spaniard knows, his coat is gone, his shoes are off, and he's being marched to his bedroom.

"Yuzu?" he ventures to say.

"Bed. Sleep," the other skater snaps as though the answer were obvious.

He splutters, "I can— You don't have to!"

The younger man stops and stares at him for a long moment. Something flashes in his gaze – impatience? frustration?

"Go." He points one long finger at the door before spinning on his heel and stomping away.

Meekly Javi goes, too drained to worry about what has gotten into his training partner. His bed is a very welcome sight, indeed, and soon he is in a pair of sleep shorts and an undershirt. He slides under the covers with a moan, and he doesn't want to move for the next hundred years…

"Here."

Javier grunts in protest, but he does force his eyes open. The hot water bottle in Yuzu's hand makes him sigh happily, and he gratefully accepts it. He smiles faintly as the Japanese skater tucks the covers back up over him, fussing for a while until they are to his satisfaction.

"Here," he repeats, pointing to the bedside table on which is a glass of water, medicine, and…

"Pooh?" Javi stares at the familiar keychain.

"This Pooh situation. Pooh will help!" Yuzuru declares.

The older man chuckles weakly.

"When hungry…" Yuzu's pointed look silences the other skater. "When hungry, food from mom in fridge. Good food. Will help."

Javier's eyes burn and he swallows around the lump in his throat, searching for words. "Yuzu, why…?"

The Japanese man glances upward before meeting his gaze dead on, intense as always, but less intimidating, turning soft around the edges.

"Javi is teammate and rival. Javi _favorite_ rival. Can't leave me by myself in Pyeongchang," he explains simply.

The words wash over the surprised Spaniard; he feels both warmth and sadness. From here Pyeongchang appears even more of an impossible dream. There will be no Grand Prix Final. And Europeans could—

"Shhh," Yuzuru shushes, as though able to hear his thoughts, sense his growing panic.

Blinking, Javier looks back at him; calm, reassurance, and belief shines in Yuzu's eyes.

"Shhh." Perching on the edge of the bed, he gently brushes back Javi's hair.

The older man's eyes shut, drawing comfort from the contact, yearning to believe. The tight feeling in his chest lightens, making it easier to breath.

"First get better. Then practice," Yuzu softly instructs after several minutes, still smoothing the other's hair.

A breathed whisper: "Yes…mom…"

There's a giggle followed by a fond, "Idiot."

Smiling, Javi finally gives in to sleep.

THE END


End file.
